


as long as amber of ember glows.

by WilderMind



Series: if i had a heart. [1]
Category: Ragnars saga loðbrókar | Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Past Character Death, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilderMind/pseuds/WilderMind
Summary: After the death of her daughter, Lagertha feels the emptiness of her family’s absence more acutely than ever. It all eats away at her, all the grief, the loneliness, the despair at the fate she feels being set for her.Yet when a woman comes to her late one night, wounded, begging for sanctuary, carrying dark visions of the future, Lagertha finds herself drawn into an ancient struggle of a legendary family haunted by misfortune and pain.And she finds herself drawn toward her. Toward Aslaug. Toward the woman who holds her heart.
Relationships: Aslaug/Lagertha (Vikings), Aslaug/Lagertha/Ragnar Lothbrok
Series: if i had a heart. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834045
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	as long as amber of ember glows.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my first fic for vikings. i'm a bit nervous, cause im out of practice writing fics, but i've been watching it with my family after taking a break for a few years, and im just a clown for height differences and watching women hold hands for .3 seconds, i guess. 
> 
> also wanted to do a deep dive on the way vikings presents motherhood and grief and fate and magic and prophecy and kinda just like. redo some of it cause i have been complaining about it to my mom for weeks now and she's annoyed with me so i need a new outlet. thanks

The goddess Frigg had a son. He was Baldr, the most beautiful and brightest of all the Æsir, adored by all. Yet it was not to last, for it was told by the Seeress that his death would occur, and it would signal the beginning of Ragnarök, the beginning of the end.

Being his mother, Frigg had loved Baldr so dearly that she had every single thing on the earth swear an oath not to harm her child. 

Every stone, every branch, every creature.  All things swore an oath, except mistletoe, for it was too young to make such a promise.  


The rest of the gods had thought it great fun to toss sticks and sling arrows at Baldr, who shrugged them off easily, but Loki, sensing something inherently unnatural with Baldr (Baldr the beautiful, Baldr the good, Baldr who was unharmed by sticks and stones) came to Frigg disguised as an old woman, and asked what she had done to keep her dear child safe. 

Frigg, not sensing his cruel intentions, told him. 

And Loki set out to find mistletoe. 

And by the end of the night, Baldr would lie dead on the ground. 

And by the break of day, the end would begin. 

Lagertha knew the story. She whispered it quietly to herself, while a storm raged outside. Curled in the throne, she kept her knees pressed to her chest, the large hall empty before her, void of laughter and talk and any joy. Lightning streaked across the sky, breaking it, cracking it, and thunder rumbled, as if Thor sensed her grief, her rage, her endless pain. 

_ The gods are cruel,  _ Lagertha had thought, as she burnt her daughter’s body, her baby’s small body, her little girl’s fragile body, sending it to Hel, where she would never see her again. But now, here, beneath the crack of lightning and rumble of thunder, she found herself thinking something very different. 

The gods are cruel, yes, but even gods must suffer the loss of a child. 

Fate is crueler than the gods. 

And the fate that the norns had laid out for her seemed cruelest of them all. 

Never again would she bear Ragnar any more sons. Her daughter was dead. Her son was out there, lost. She could feel her husband growing distant, growing farther. The life she had once lived was faded, and the life she had dreamt of living was slipping from her fingers like the smoke from her daughters funeral pyre. 

A rustle of wings at her side distracted her from her musings. She looked up. A raven sat on one of the rafters, seeking shelter from the storm. It’s dark eyes looked down at her, blinking slowly. 

“Are you Huginn, or are you Muninn?” Lagertha said. “Are you thought? Or are you memory? Haven’t you both tormented me enough?” 

The raven spread its wings sharply, and croaked a long note that echoed around the hall, as if preparing to dive at her, and strike her with its talons.  


Lagertha drew back, despite herself, as another flash of lightning lit up the room. Thunder rumbled, close, close enough to shake the building. 

But there was another sound.

Someone was banging on the door. Lagertha stood up, slowly. 

Again, the sound of banging echoed through the hall, and with it, another sound. The sound of a woman crying out. Aslaug glanced toward her sword, but she did not go towards it as she walked forward, across the empty hall. 

Opening it, she peered out cautiously. 

It is a woman, a single woman. She was soaked to the bone, wearing tattered rags, trembling beneath the rain. But that was not what struck Lagertha first. It was her beauty, for she was tall, willowy, her face striking, even while she shook, her eyes wide, desperate. She captured Lagertha’s gaze, holding her there, transfixed. 

“Please,” she said, her voice cracking. “Please help me.”

Before Lagertha can even open her mouth, the sound of raven’s wings echo behind her. Lagertha looked down at the woman’s stomach, seeing a patch of deep red spreading across her dress, as the woman took a single step forward, falling into Lagertha’s arms. 


End file.
